


A Higher State of Consciousness

by CaptainLyssa



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Drama & Romance, Episode Rewrite: Threshold, F/M, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:02:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22600684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainLyssa/pseuds/CaptainLyssa
Summary: I love this episode, but as a health professional, parts of it are simply preposterous. So, what really happened to Lt. Thomas Paris after achieving Warp 10 in Threshold? We commence in sickbay with Tom asleep, a slight enzymatic imbalance in his cerebellum and increasing serotonin levels
Relationships: Harry Kim & Tom Paris, Harry Kim & Tom Paris & B'Elanna Torres, Tom Paris/B'Elanna Torres
Comments: 11
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Voyager is a great series. I’m enjoying it even more as I rewatch after near on twenty years. Yet some of the pretexts, especially in the first two seasons, strike me as preposterous. The first half of Threshold, and Robert McNeil’s acting is amazing. Then the writers seem to have lost the plot, or run out of ideas. This is my version of what occurred. I hope you enjoy.

“Once again Lt. Paris seems to have escaped his little adventure unharmed,” The Doctor stated sarcastically, waving a neurological probe over the prostrate pilot. Watching the reading on his tricorder, the EMH frowned. “Life signs have returned to normal. I’m detecting slightly elevated serotonin readings in the hypothalamus. We’ll add that to the enzymatic imbalance in his cerebellum. Nothing to give me any alarm at present. Well at least the higher functions of the cerebrum are normal, if normal could ever be assigned to this particular patient. From what I can tell,” snapping the device shut and turning off the probe, the doctor looked into the concerned eyes of his Captain, “he's just asleep.”

“Can you wake him?” She enquired, letting out a soft sigh.

The elevated serotonin levels bothered her, especially after uncovering an abnormality in Tom’s brain chemistry prior to this flight. Recalling Lt. Paris almost begging for this assignment in order to redeem himself, she’d reluctantly given in. He’d known the risks and taken them gladly. It was the result that caused Kathryn’s dismay. She hated seeing any of her crew injured, especially her personal reclamation project.

Without warning, the EMH bent close to the slumbering man’s ear and shouted, “Wake up, Lieutenant!”

“Are you all right, Tom?” Janeway’s tone demonstrated her disapproval at the doctors’ bedside manner by arching an eyebrow. Laying a gentle hand on Lt. Paris’s shoulder as her pilot’s eyes opened seemed to orientate him to the present. The action was more to assure herself than offer comfort to the obviously confused man.

Bolting upright, Tom’s orbs finally focused on his surroundings. Peering into the concerned face of his Captain and the smirking visage of the EMH, he understood his location only too well. Swinging his legs over the side of the bio bed to sit on the edge, Thomas Eugene Paris grinned like a child in an old fashioned sweet shop. He wanted to yell and pump his fist in the air, signalling his victory. Even winding up in sickbay, yet again, couldn’t diminish his euphoria.

“I'm back,” he couldn’t keep the expression of utter exultation from his face.

Rolling her baby blue’s Janeway listened while her chief pilot recalled his experience. The scientist in her was fascinated and couldn’t wait to analyse _Cochrane’s_ data. The Captain knew what this would mean in terms of shortening their journey home if they could get the technology to drop out of trans warp at designated coordinates. Which begged the question, “how did you get back to Voyager?”

Before the pilot could answer, the doors to sick bay opened and B’Elanna rushed in. “Tom!” She smiled, heading directly over to the bio bed in the surgical alcove. If Lt. Paris didn’t know better, he bet his new and hard-won reputation B’Elanna Torres was actually glad to see him. Jumping off the table, he managed to attach his hands to her elbows. Paris knew hugging B’Elanna was taking your life in your hands, especially in the presence of the Captain and EMH. Strangely, she didn’t pull away and deck him for merely touching her, but allowed the contact as her brown eyes drank him in.

_He looks fine! Harry com’ed me to say his life signs were weak and he was transported directly to sickbay. I had to make sure for myself. We’ve become close friends since sharing that experience in the Vidiian mine._

“I'm fine,” Tom reassured.

His smile wide, Tom directed it entirely towards the tiny engineer. Locking their gazes, he felt connected to B’Elanna in more than a physical sense. Strangely, Paris sensed her thoughts as his own. Concentrating, he tried to open his mind to possibilities beyond his capabilities. There seemed to be something on the very edge of his perception, waiting to be discovered.

_You brought the shuttle back without a scratch. The on-board sensors confirm that you reached warp ten._ The words sounded almost like B’Elanna but Tom was certain she hadn’t opened her mouth.

_“ **We**_ made warp 10 _,”_ Tom answered the unspoken comment, tightening his grip on her elbows and sharing the glory of their achievement. The physical contact only enhanced the feeling of coherence. If her expression was anything to go by, B’Elanna appeared as confused as he felt with the sudden and unexpected bond between them. He wondered if she also perceived his thoughts, as he had hers.

They both looked around to gauge the Doctor and Captain’s reaction. The EMH appeared his usual stony-faced self. _I want to know how you got back to us, Mr. Paris,_ Janeway sounded bemused and impatient, watching the interaction between her lieutenants with indulgence.

Turning his head to the Captain, Tom noticed the expression she turned on him, one of apprehension as she picked up on the sudden change in atmosphere. Sighing, Tom wondered if Janeway ever stopped thinking about getting her crew home to the Alpha quadrant. At the same time, he saw both the Doctor and B’Elanna within his line of sight, which was impossible as the EMH was standing behind him.

This experience mirrored the few moments he’d spent at warp 10 and unnerved the lieutenant completely. Tom realised he was watching himself while still participating in the scene before him. B’Elanna’s worry emanated off her as his legs unexpectedly threatened to give way. She pushed him backwards, forcing Tom to take a step towards the bio bed. Something in him refused to let go of the physical contact while his attention remained focused on the Captain.

“I saw that you were looking for me,” Tom declared, shaking his head to clear the dull ache which had started in the back of his skull. He felt the table behind him and B’Elanna’s insistent need to get him to lie down. “So, I took the new engines offline and ended up back where I started. But, oh, it's starting to slip away. It all was so vivid, and now…”

That’s when the ache turned into a lancing pain and Tom was forced to place a hand on the back of his head. It didn’t relieve the sudden headache. Yet he perceived the three individuals in the room and felt their anxiety directed exclusively toward him. Before he knew what happened, B’Elanna used her Klingon strength to force him to lie down. Her expression imploring the doctor, the EMH retrieved his medical equipment and quickly reexamined the pilot.

“Captain, his serotonin levels have risen significantly since my last scan,” the Doctor stated. Going into lecture mode, he connected his patient to the surgical bio bed’s monitors. “Serotonin is an important neurotransmitter, regulating mood, social behaviour, appetite, digestion, sleep, memory, and sexual desire and function. The degree of symptoms can range from mild to severe as the levels increase. Initially they include high body temperature, agitation, increased reflexes, tremor, sweating, dilated pupils, and diarrhoea. In the worst-case scenario patients can experience seizures, irregular heart rhythms, unconsciousness and ultimately death.”

“It’s just a sudden headache,” Tom whined, closing his eyes but still able to see the three people surrounding his bed. “You don’t need to look at me like that! I’m fine. Just give me a few hours to sleep and it will all go away.”

“Doctor,” the Captain sounded uneasy.

Closing the arch over his patient with an exasperated sigh, he glared at B’Elanna. She returned his scowl with a determined look of her own, daring him to remove her. Either way, Tom wasn’t about to lose physical contact with the only person able to give him a little comfort.

Fiddling with the controls, the doctor muttered, “There’s an overproduction of neurotransmitters in the pineal gland. Transporting the serotonin directly out of Lt. Paris’s brain is impossible.”

“What are you saying?” Demanded B’Elanna, not liking the doctor’s tone.

“There is nothing I can do at this time,” he allowed his eyebrow to rise. “I’m going to keep Lt. Paris for observation. I’ve noted an increase temperature and pupil dilation caused by the rising serotonin level. Until those symptoms dissipate, I’ll keep a close eye on our patient. He does seem to have stabilised for the moment, albeit with more symptoms than on admission to sickbay.”

“Let me know if the situation changes, Doctor,” Janeway ordered. Turning to her engineer, she asked, “Lt. Torres, how quickly can we analyse those logs? I can’t help thinking they might give us a clue as to why this has happened.”

“Captain,” Tom called from the bed in a tone filled with agitation. Even though he’d been forced to lie down, he’d managed to keep one hand in contact with the engineer and his mind perceiving the others in the room. The feeling of omnipotence hadn’t dissipated. If anything, it was increasing beyond his immediate surroundings. “I’d really like B’Elanna to stay,” he requested hopefully.

“Doctor?” Questioned the Captain. It seemed they were working their way through the list of minor complications rather rapidly.

“I don’t see any reason why Lt. Paris can’t have visitors,” he huffed, watching the interaction occurring in his surgical bay and the monitor very carefully. “Lt. Torres does see to have a calming effect on our patient. At this point, I’d say she’s the best medicine we have.”

Kathryn Janeway understood the message, as did B’Elanna, if her sharply drawn in breath was any indication. “Lieutenant?”

“Harry can down load the data logs from the shuttle and start the diagnostics,” she responded easily. Prying Tom’s fingers from just below her elbow in a quick movement, B’Elanna attempted to locate a stool. His increased reflexes astounded her as he once again latched onto her wrist. “Take my hand, Paris, it’s a lot more comfortable if I’m going to be sitting here for hours on end with nothing to do but keep you company.”

Rolling his eyes, the Doctor located a chair and brought it over.

“Anything else, Lieutenant?” Janeway allowed her eyebrow to rise. The gesture wasn’t lost on the Doctor who also ticked off yet another symptom of increased serotonin levels.

“I’ve given Lt. Carey the engineering assignments for today and tomorrow,” B’Elanna stated easily. She had grown into her position as Chief Engineer with the help of her assistant. “Unless there’s an emergency, I was intending to go over the logs from the trans warp tests with Harry and Tom. Once the data is analysed, we can only hope to understand how to drop out of warp at a designated point. Then we can consider incorporating the technology into Voyager’s engines after more test flights.”

“If there’s anything you need,” Janeway offered, still reluctant to leave. Over the last few months, she had noticed the increasing friendship between Lt. Paris, Lt. Torres and Ensign Kim. They’d often ate meals together, spent off duty hours on the holodeck, formed one of her best away teams and used their unique skills to make improvements on Voyager.

_Two’s company, three’s a crowd._

_Where did that thought come from_ , Janeway wondered.

She could have sworn it was one of Tom’s offhanded comments in that brash tone he employed so well. Watching her young officers, Janeway noted B’Elanna’s eyes arrow to the man who appeared to be sleeping on the bed. His fingers continued to twitch in her grasp. Each attempt to remove her digits caused Tom’s grip to become firmer. With an audible sigh, the engineer glared, as if that would be enough to release her trapped hand.

“I’ll be in my office if you need me Lt. Torres,” the Doctor frowned, trying and failing to read the Captain’s rapid expressions. He was troubled, both by his patient’s symptoms and Lt. Torres seemingly docile behaviour.

The moment Janeway and the EMH disappeared Tom opened his eyes. He felt the Captain’s, well, aura for lack of a better word, get fainter as she approached the extremities of his perception. The twinkle of suppressed delight was followed with a broad smile.

_Alone at last_.

“Did you say something, Tom,” B’Elanna asked, her gaze returning to Paris. For a few minutes, she had been considering how long it would take for him to fall into a deep sleep, so she could escape. The engineer was itching to get to those logs.

“I love you,” Paris avowed, wearing that asinine grin he used when teasing or trying to impress. Even the tone was playful.

Known for flirting with all the women on-board, married, taken or single, B’Elanna snorted mockingly. He’d never actually turned his attentions on her or asked her out on a date. _Then again, would I have given him the time of day, if Tom weren’t Harry’s friend?_

_I respect you too much to flirt._

“Are we talking enigmatically?” She retorted in a condescending tone, pondering the strange mental conversation. _Must be my subconscious playing the devils’ advocate._

_Or the truth you don’t want to acknowledge._

“Enigmatically, emotionally, physically,” Tom responded verbally, his blue eyes trapping B’Elanna’s brown with an intense gaze. No matter how she tried, Torres couldn’t read his intention. “You pick,” he whispered, bringing her hand to his lips.

“You’re a Pig, Paris,” B’Elanna responded, pulling their combined hand away before he could lay a kiss on her skin. Yet there was something akin to hurt in the back of his intense stare.

“So, you keep telling me, Torres,” Tom sighed. Turning his attention to the smaller hand encompassed within in his, Paris concentrated on the connection he felt with B’Elanna. It had been forged a year ago, in the Vidiian mine. Slowly, he’d managed to get her to trust him enough to work on the transwarp engine.

_Close your eyes and sleep_.

_Only if you lay down with me._

Shocked, B’Elanna tried to convince herself the words were just a figment of her imagination. Yet those clear, blue eyes continued to stare at her, as if reading her most inner thoughts. Swallowing hard, Torres found herself trapped by Tom’s intensity. He seemed to surround and encompass her all at once.

Hesitantly _. How are you doing this, Tom?_

_Doing what?_

_Telepathy!_

_I…I don’t know. I just feel this connection to you._

_Me too._

_Well that’s a first._

_Close your eyes and try and get some sleep. It might help get rid of your headache._

_How do you know I still have my headache?_

B’Elanna didn’t have an answer for that question, except she just knew the ache had increased to the point Tom couldn’t stand the pain anymore. Once again, he’d used humour to hide his suffering. With that thought, Torres began to understand the walls he erected to keep people out because of the mental link they shared. Whatever was occurring between them had forced those emotional barriers to crumble. Thomas Eugene Paris was more sensitive than most gave him credit for. She felt his self-loathing and hurt buried beneath his usually jovial demeanour.

Softly _. Go to sleep, Tom._

_I’m not tired._

_Liar. I can feel your exhaustion. Beside’s, I’ll be here when you wake up._

_Promise._

Rolling eyes _. Yes! Now close your eyes._

_Only if you join me._

_Not a chance._

_Spoil sport._

_I’m not going to tell you again, Lt. Paris._ Frustrated sigh. _Sleep._

Cheekily _. Yes, Ma’am._

“I see our patient has stabilised,” the EMH commented. He’d stood at the door to his office and watched the interaction. It intrigued him enough to approach and take another set of readings.

“Tom’s headache hasn’t improved,” B’Elanna stated acidly.

_I’m fine._

_Lier_.

“I’ll give him something,” the doctor said, wondering how Lt. Torres knew. Lt. Paris’s vital signs indicated increasing discomfort, even though he was laying completely still and seemingly comfortable. The EMH began to theorise, not finding any possible conclusions to match the data.

“Thanks, Doc,” Tom managed.

“Well, I’ll leave you two alone,” he huffed. “Kes is due to start her shift in half an hour. I’ll have her continue to monitor you, Lieutenant.”


	2. Chapter 2

“What’s this,” Harry asked, pointing to his friends combined digits.

Ensign Kim worked through lunch, crunching the data from Tom’s trans warp test flight while still at the operations station on the bridge. The Captain wandered to the upper deck occasionally and watched his progress. At the end of his shift Captain Janeway suggested, in that tone indicating an order, he present himself to sickbay and relieve Lt. Torres. Walking in Harry understood why. Pointing to B’Elanna’s trapped hand and frustrated expression, his grin widened.

“Apparently,” she answered hostilely, irritated by doing nothing but watch Paris sleep, “Tom loves me and won’t let me out of his sight or grasp.”

“No secret there,” Harry laughed. It turned into a snort as he forced a neutral expression onto his face. If looks could kill, he’d be a very dead Ensign.

“What do you mean, no secret,” B’Elanna demanded. Even with her Klingon ire, sleeping Tom refused to let go. Only she knew he wasn’t sleeping any longer. The petaQ was pretending, and enjoying her anger at Harry’s teasing.

_What have you said?_

_Nothing._

_Really?_

_Well, maybe only to Harry._

_Harry?_

_Who else would I talk to, but my best friend._

_You know how much I love people talking about me._

_Come on! This place is a fish bowl. If there isn’t a rumour spreading by ten hundred, then someone’s bound to start one._

_Every rumour has a basis in fact._

_How much time have we been spending together?_

_We’re working on a project, as a team._

_Semantics._

_I give up!_

Grinning and oblivious to the silent discussion, Harry teased, “didn’t you get the memo.” It didn’t quite get the response he was looking for as B’Elanna ignored him in favour of glaring at a sleeping Tom.

She’d heard and didn’t like the implications.

_Let. Me. Go. Tom._

_Do I have too?_

_Yes. Right now._

_Spoil sport._

“What just happened,” Harry looked perplexed. He’d watched B’Elanna give his friend a death stare. If looks could form a conversation, he knew exactly what occurred between the two. Then Tom let go with a sigh and opened his eyes.

“Hey, Harry,” he said but the tone lacked his usual joviality. “Come to give B’Elanna a break.”

“Something like that,” Kim responded, his gaze switching between his friends. There seemed to be a strange sort of aura surrounding them. Their physical contact ended, Torres moved as far way from Paris as possible. “Have you two been arguing? There’s suddenly a chill in the air.”

“What gives you that idea,” Tom joked. His eyes watched B’Elanna as she edged in the direction of the exit.

“I’m going to burn off some energy,” Torres threw over her shoulder, “get cleaned up and then eat.”

Harry gave her a compassionate look. If there was one thing B’Elanna hated, it was sitting around doing nothing. As far as he could see, she didn’t even have a PADD to distract her.

_Promise you’ll come back. You can even bring some work._

_That’s big of you._

Smugly _, I thought so._

_You’re a pig, Paris._

_It’s my lot in life, Torres, according to you. And yet I could be so much more._

_Give me a couple of hours. But, I can’t stay all night._

_And I was so looking forward to cuddling up._

Snort _. I rather cuddle my warp core._

Sighing _, you love your engines more than you love me._

“I give up,” B’Elanna threw her hands in the air and stalked out of sick bay muttering, “you see what you can do with him, Harry. He’s impossible.”

“What the hell just happened,” Kim took the seat vacated by B’Elanna before looking into his friends blazing eyes. The ram rod straight spine of their Chief Engineer displayed her anger. Yet, Paris’ gaze continued to look at the door long after she’d disappeared.

“Telepathy, Harry,” Tom smirked, before closing his eyes and pretending to sleep.

Shaking his head, Harry didn’t quite know how to take his friends comment. Everyone knew neither Tom nor B’Elanna had that mental ability. Besides, Kes had been in and out of the room and didn’t look like she was picking up any unusual mental activity. Tom’s irritable behaviour didn’t bode well for the remainder of the visit. Noticing the atmosphere change, Kes came out of the office to conduct her half hourly patient check.

“Harry,” she offered in her soft, calming tone, “it’s good to see Tom’s friends stop by. I’m sure B’Elanna appreciates the chance to take a break.”

Smiling, Harry nodded. “She seemed pretty wound up when she left,” he agreed. Sensing the Ocampan might have some insight, he stated, “Tom mentioned telepathy.”

Confused, Kes seemed to draw into herself for a few moments. “I’m not sensing any mental communication,” she offered.

“It strange,” Harry confessed, “when I came into sick bay, it seemed like Tom and B’Elanna were lost in each other. They were glaring but the looks on their faces; well it was like they were having one of their usual conversations. You know, winding each other up. Only neither of them said a word. It reminded me of the time B’Elanna and I were in the Ocampan city. Everyone was so silent.”

Considering Harry’s words, Kes waved the tricorder and probe over Tom. A concerned expression covered her face as she noticed the serotonin levels had once again risen. Placing the equipment on a table to one side of the bio bed, she laid a hand on Tom’s shoulder.

Nothing. She felt nothing. If Tom was developing telepathy, she couldn’t read anything from him.

“Tom?” Kes questioned in a soft voice, leaning over him, “how are you feeling?”

“Strange,” he commented. “Like I’m floating outside my body but I’m still me.”

“Do you still have your headache?” Kes enquired.

“Yes,” Paris responded. “It never really went away.”

“I’m going to get you something for the pain,” she stated.

“Don’t bother,” he muttered, “it didn’t help last time.”

“I’ll be back in a minute,” Kes promised both men with a reassuring smile, returning to the doctor’s office.

The EMH had been monitoring the exchanged from his console. “I see Lt. Paris’ serotonin levels have risen two percent since Lt. Torres left. I cannot account for the reason that our engineer’s company stabilised his condition.”

“I have an idea, Doctor,” Kes offered, “but I don’t think you will like my conclusion.”

His expression demanded she continue.

“As I understand it, the trans warp test flight allowed Tom to be everywhere at the same moment in time,” Kes stated, watching the Doctor’s response. He nodded. “That amount of information would be difficult to process. Do you think it’s possible his neural pathways have been damaged by sensory overload?”

“Very possible,” the EMH reflected. “The last neurological scan showed increasing activity in all areas of Lt. Paris’ encephalogram. But if he experienced trans warp for a few seconds, I’d have expected his brain to be repairing itself. This is something else, almost a state of hyperactivity.”

“Maybe Tom’s mind is changing,” Kes theorised. “I couldn’t hear him telepathically. Harry seems to think Tom and B’Elanna are communicating nonverbally.”

“Run a DNA scan and see if there has been any subtle changes we missed initially,” the EMH ordered. “Physically Lt. Paris’ brain is as it always was. Electrically, that’s a different matter entirely.”


	3. Chapter 3

Storming out of Sickbay, B’Elanna took the turbo lift down to her quarters. Changing into her PT uniform, she headed for the gym. The movement wasn’t enough to keep thoughts of Tom and what happened between them from entering her mind.

Why she’d accepted such an intimate bond so easily, confused B’Elanna. When Tom started speaking to her, she’d acceded to his ability, never asking how this could occur, or why it was happening. Cursing under her breath, an hour in the ships gym wasn’t enough to run off Lt. Torres’ pent up frustration on the tread mill. Looking at the punching bags, she took several swings before collapsing on the floor, utterly exhausted. B’Elanna could still feel Tom in her head, seven decks and the entire length of the ship from Sickbay. She knew he was getting worse and she needed to get to those logs to find out why.

The link between them increased as she entered her quarters on deck nine, even if she was located in the aft section of Voyager. The sonic shower did little to remove his presence. It wasn’t words or even clear thoughts, just a feeling of being constantly, well joined.

In the mess hall, closer spatially to sickbay, the contact became more specific. She knew his pain had continued to increase. His chest now hurt and his limbs were becoming sore. Attempting to ignore it, B’Elanna collected a meal tray. What ever Neelix had made actually looked edible.

_I guess I’m just hungry._

_Looks appetising, not._

_I said edible._

“Sickbay to Lt. Torres,” the EMH called as she placed the first spoonful into her mouth.

_Dam._

_I can wait._

_Don’t you dare make light of this._

_What, Neelix’s delightful dinner._

_You know what I mean._ Shuddering _. I know you!_

Grinning _. Well, I’ve achieved something then._

“Torres here,” she answered, immediately aware something had occurred from the sudden change in Tom’s mental tone. She felt the desperation, as if he cried out in more than physical pain.

“You need to come to sickbay immediately,” the doctor stated tersely.

“Understood, Torres out,” B’Elanna didn’t even bother to pick up her tray or acknowledge the curious gazes aimed in her direction. Tearing out of the mess, she waited impatiently for the turbolift. Cursing under her breath, B’Elanna felt every moment of the three floors separating them. Never had it seemed to take so long to get such a short distance.

“What's happening to him?” B’Elanna demanded as she entered sickbay.

Horror struck as she watched Tom’s body jerk and his eyes roll back in his head. Alarms blared on the bio bed. His skin had become translucent, displaying his veins just below the surface. Sweat poured off the pilot making it difficult for the doctor to keep the cardiac and neurological devices attached in the appropriate locations.

“His symptoms have become severe, Lt. Torres,” the Doctor warned, not taking his attention from his patient. “They are now life threatening.”

Nodding, she understood and moved as close as possible. “What can I do?”

“I assume it had something to do with his experience on the shuttle,” the doctor stated in an abrupt tone. “Lt. Paris’ serotonin levels are rising to dangerous levels. May I suggest you hold his hand. At this point I’m willing to try anything to stabilise my patient.”

A scream rent the air. B’Elanna pushed Harry out the way. She couldn’t block out the mental anguish so easily. The moment she touched him, the pain exploded in her mind.

_B’Elanna!_

_I’m here._

“Can’t you give him something for the pain?” B’Elanna fumed.

“I have nothing left to administer, Lt. Torres. His memory engrams are deteriorating and he’s cardiac rhythm is not responding to conventional therapy. I can’t control the seizures or increase the cardiac output. His blood pressure is dropping which is further hampering my efforts to perfuse his brain and washout the serotonin. I don’t know why these levels continue to increase. He's dying. I need to know more about what happened on that shuttle, and I need to know it now. Radiation levels, unexplained anomalies, anything that could cause this level of trauma,” the EMH looked to Ensign Kim.

“On it, doc,” Harry called over his shoulder as he rushed from the room.

Kim knew he shouldn’t feel relieved to leave sickbay, yet he did. Seeing his friend in a life and death struggle affected the young ensign. Loss might have been an almost constant companion in the Delta quadrant, still not one of his close friends had died. Worse still, it looked like Tom’s life might be lost for doing nothing more than he loved.

_There’re loosing me._

Snort. _What makes you think I’m going to let you go that easily._

_B’Elanna, the end comes to us all._

“I'm going to die,” Tom managed to whisper, looking directly into the doctor’s holographic eyes. He wasn’t afraid, just sorry his life ended too soon.

_It’s at the end of a mans’ life that he regrets the mistakes he made at the start and I’ve made a lot. I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to be more than friends._

Tom hadn’t been able to hold B’Elanna’s hand as he wished, fearing the uncontrollable spasms would damage even her Klingon bones. He’d settled for the flat of her hand over his heart, his own palm covering her smaller fingers in those moments he could master his movements. Gritting his teeth, Tom felt yet another seizure commence and arch his body off the bio bed.

“You're too stubborn to die, Mr. Paris,” The EMH retorted, waving his tricorder to ensure the episode had ceased before contemplating a very old-fashioned therapy. “I’m going to try to overdrive pace your heart with a cardiac pacemaker. Failing that, I’ll use resynchronisation therapy. If that fails, I’m going to put you on life support until we can sort out what’s driving your brain chemistry to these unsustainable levels.”

“Cardiac devices are charged and ready,” Kes reported from the medical station.

“Begin with a rate of 180 beats per minute,” the Doctor watched the monitors and frowned. “Increase the output to 10 millivolts, 15, 20. Well that’s not working, try the sensitivity, and increase it to maximum. All we’ve done is increase the heart rate. Let’s start again at 200 beats per minute. This is not working.”

“Doctor,” Kes sounded worried, “I’ve set up the CRT.”

“Good,” The EMH responded. “Let’s check electrolytes first. All normal. Start the therapy.”

Another seizure hit, sending Tom’s already ravaged body arching. B’Elanna knew the moment his neural pathways ceased to conduct bioneural energy. The voice in her head had been getting further and further away, until she couldn’t hear it anymore.

“Stop,” she cried, tears welling in her eyes. She wouldn’t let them fall.

“If you’re not going to help, Lt. Torres, I suggest you leave,” the EMH stated, lost in his attempts to save the patient.

“Tom’s dead,” she shouted, turning away from the bed and the man lying on it to hit out at the wall, “and I’m not going to let you continue to torture him.”

Taking up his neurological probe, the Doctor sighed. “No neural activity.”

“We can try to revive him,” Kes suggested. The look both B’Elanna and the EMH levelled at her made even the Ocampan cringe. “What about placing Tom in stasis?”

“Kes,” strangely, B’Elanna felt calm, “Tom knew. He didn’t fear dying, only what he’d left undone.”

“How do you know that?” she questioned.

“He told me,” B’Elanna couldn’t face these people, so she continued to face the wall.

“There's nothing more we can do. It will be necessary for us to perform an autopsy on the Lieutenant's body in the morning. Until then, I suggest you both get some rest,” the EMH’s voice had changed. Sorrow permeated his tone.

Going to Lt. Torres, he moved a hand but refrained from touching her shoulder. The waves of emotion she gave off told him to back off. Leaving B’Elanna with Tom, he retreated to his office with his assistant.

An hour later, the doctor had dismissed Kes for the night and continued to watch B’Elanna. She stood, leant over Tom and kissed his cheek. A finger lingered on his forehead, finally brushing back a lock of hair that had fallen out of place during one of his seizures. With a heavy sigh, she turned and left sickbay without a backward glance.

“Sickbay to Captain Janeway,” the EMH spoke softly. He’d waited until Lt. Torres had time to say goodbye before informing the Captain.

“On my way,” she answered.

It took Kathryn exactly two seconds to understand the hail. Two minutes to make it to sickbay, and another twenty seconds for the tears to fall. Standing by a still warm Thomas Paris, she simply looked towards the doctor her expression asking the question her lips refused to utter.

“I regret to inform you, Lt. Paris is brain dead, Captain,” the doctor sounded melancholy. “The cardiac pacemaker and bio bed are keeping his other organs perfused for the time being. Once I turn off the equipment, corporal death will follow within minutes.”

“B’Elanna,” she questioned.

“Was in attendance and spent the last hour with Lt. Paris,” he reported. “I’ve scheduled an autopsy for the morning. I’ll be turning the equipment off as soon as you and any other crew have had time to say goodbye.”

“Keep what’s left of Tom stable overnight, doctor,” the Captain turned towards the exit, “that’s an order. I have a feeling this is not over yet.”


	4. Chapter 4

Captain Kathryn Janeway, along with the rest of the crew would soon be in mourning. Hours ago, everything looked encouraging. Well, at least as promising as a day got in the Delta quadrant. They were testing the theory of transwarp that just might get them home sooner than expected. It had worked and Lt. Thomas Eugene Paris achieved Warp ten, only to fall to the ill effects of some, as yet, unknown cerebral event. The crews’ hopes would soon be in tatters as word of Tom’s demise spread. Then the despondency would start to insidiously creep through the crew.

All too soon the Captain would have to inform her people. The scramble to find a replacement for her Chief Conn officer and best pilot from a limited selection of personnel didn’t bear thinking about. None had the innate ability of Lt. Paris, making their journey home significantly more precarious. Worse still, just when Kathryn Janeway’s personal reclamation project was seeing results, this occurred. Life, the Captain knew, was never fair and always managed to throw a curved ball when you most desperately **_didn’t_** need it.

Still, Janeway couldn’t give into these melancholy thoughts just yet. Something, some inner sense that defied reasoning, continued to hope. Even without a general announcement of the Navigation Officer’s demise, word would seep through the corridors of Voyager with stealthy swiftness. While Tom’s body was being kept warm, any decisions could wait a day, or two.

At this very moment in time, Captain Janeway had to think like an angry, grief stricken half Klingon, who’d only just become aware of the depth of her friendship with Tom Paris. It took a moment’s thought, and Kathryn knew where she’d find her Chief Engineer. Making her way down to deck eleven, Voyager’s Captain knew this, whatever it was, wasn’t over yet. Some latent instinct said they couldn’t lose Lt. Paris so easily. Besides, the EMH managed to reintegrate Commander Chakotay’s bioneural energy into his corporal being a few months back.

 _All we have to do,_ Janeway considered the similarities between these events, _is find what happened to Tom’s conscious. If it’s wandering around the ship somewhere, we have to get it back into his body. Chakotay took over both Tom and B’Elanna’s minds, stopping us from going back into that dark nebula. Why do I get the feeling it’s not going to be that easy this time around? That Tom’s consciousness is not floating around the ship simply waiting to be reintegrated?_

Seated at one of the main stations on the open lower deck, Lt. Torres was scrolling through the data logs from _Cochrane’s_ transwarp flight. She heard the soft hiss of the doors open and felt the Captain’s approach. The young woman really didn’t want to talk to any one. B’Elanna needed to be alone, to work, to forget, to find a rational explanation why yet another friend had abandoned her. The mental contact with Tom over the last hours continued to echo in her mind, making this loss feel both more profound and intimate than any she’d ever experienced.

“B’Elanna,” Kathryn placed a gentle hand on the younger woman’s shoulder.

“Harry made a good start,” she stated indifferently, not taking her eyes from the screen before her. “There’s no sign of any abnormality Tom might have encountered to cause the increased neurotransmitter secretion. Radiation was well within normal limits. There’s nothing here to explain his death. Dam!”

Bringing her fists down on the console didn’t help dissipate the built-up rage currently cruising through B’Elanna’s veins but it made her feel just a little better. The tears welled. She refused to shed even one in such a public area of the ship. Only when she gone through every possibility and uncovered the answer would she give in to the grief and truly believe Tom was actually gone.

“I’ve just come from sick bay,” the Captain explained, recognising the moment B’Elanna understood her meaning. “The Doctor will keep Tom’s physical body viable for as long as he’s able.”

“Do you remember that dark matter nebula we explored a few months ago,” the Engineer suddenly asked, “when Chakotay lost his mind?”

“I was thinking about that situation on the way down here,” Janeway confessed, “and how the Commander managed to overlay both Tom’s and your thoughts.” Pausing to collect her ideas, Kathryn blew out a long, steady breath and asked, “I need to ask you about your interactions with Mr. Paris in sickbay. There were a few times I was sure Tom said something I didn’t quite catch. The Doctor and Kes said you sat by our pilot’s side without a word for hours this afternoon. You told the medical staff when he was in pain. Harry asked Kes about telepathy after Tom mentioned it. Mr. Kim believes the communications you shared with Lt. Paris this afternoon…”

“It was nothing like that, Captain,” B’Elanna broke in aggressively. Getting up from her seat, she curled her fingers into fists as her nails cut into her palms, keeping her fury from erupting. She wasn’t ready to explain the connection but knew she had to tell someone. “I don’t know how it happened or why I accepted the invasion so easily. I just started hearing Tom in my mind and found myself answering. Even when he was asleep, I knew everything he was experiencing. Tom’s thoughts and feelings escaped and I could comprehend them. When I left sickbay, I could sense his mind brushing mine in the gym, and again in my quarters but that contact was, heightened because I was closer to him. In the Officer’s mess, we were able to communicate in words and ideas. But there was more, the exchanges were completely honest and authentic, like we couldn’t keep anything hidden. The mental contact was absolute and unconditional. There was no way for me to misunderstand him, no subtext or artifice.”

“It sounds,” Janeway searched for the word, “enlightening.”

“I learnt more about Tom Paris in one minute, than I’ve allowed myself to understand in the last thirteen months,” B’Elanna stated, large brown eyes turning on the Captain, pleading for acceptance. “I don’t know how, or why?”

“Why Tom suddenly has this ability,” Janeway asked pointedly, “or why he chose you to share it with?”

“Both,” B’Elanna sighed and deflated back into her chair.

“Surely you know,” Janeway watched the young engineer’s reaction to her words. “The Doctor said the elevated serotonin levels could affect Tom’s attraction towards the opposite sex.”

Snorting, B’Elanna considered Lt. Paris’s reputation as a flirt. It took a few seconds to understand the Captain’s comment applied specifically to her. “Me,” the engineer wanted to sound shocked but couldn’t. The odd conversation with Tom came back instantly.

_I told you I love you._

_You’re weren’t flirting._

_With you, I wouldn’t dare!_

“Since the Banean’s accused Tom of murder, he’s changed, B’Elanna,”  
Janeway spoke softly. “That experience, the memories caused by that alien technology inserted in his brain, gave Lt. Paris a very different perspective on his life. I’ve seen my Chief Con officer settle down and begin to value his relationships with you and Harry.”

“That’s it,” B’Elanna sounded excited. Turning back to her console, her fingers started flying over the controls.

“I don’t understand,” Janeway sounded as confused as her tone.

“You felt Tom speaking with you,” B’Elanna stated, her mind buzzing with ideas. “I need to know how the Doctor managed to reintegrate Chakotay’s consciousness.”

“Janeway to Sickbay,” the Captain opened a channel, still not entirely sure what information the engineer required.

“Yes, Captain,” the EMH answered immediately.

“Please turn on your emergency medical channel. Lt. Torres and I have some questions for you?” Janeway ordered.

“The procedure,” the Doctor explained after understanding the direction of their thoughts, “involved three neural transceivers, two cortical stimulators and fifty gigaquads of computer memory. I would be happy to take you through the process, but it would take at least ten hours to explain. Needless to say, it was a remarkable procedure. However, I must warn you, Lt. Paris’s situation is hardly the same.”

“If we could find his dissipated bioneural energy signature,” B’Elanna stated, only to have the EMH hold up a hand.

“Commander Chakotay’s mind ejected from his physical being after a dark matter discharge from the nebula. It was floating around the ship and we had evidence of his engrams remaining intact. Lt. Paris’s mind faded away naturally, his entire neural network overloaded and the synaptic neurotransmitter system fell into dysfunction. Whatever Mr. Paris saw out there, to use one of his twentieth century caloupialisms, fried his brain,” the Doctor explained. “Even if you could reconstruct Mr. Paris’s consciousness and integrate it, which is highly unlikely due to both his serotonin levels remaining dangerously elevated and the neural pathways deterioration, the remainder of his autonomic nervous function is being artificially controlled at present. In short, without his brain, the body will fade, even with medical intervention.”

“Why,” B’Elanna asked, thinking of the bioneural gel packs and network used to control _Voyager_ , “would only one system degenerate so quickly? Surely every cell in the body would suffer the same process? As I understand it, you’re keeping Tom’s body alive because he’s lost all brain function.”

“Essentially,” the EMH frowned. Recalling his conversation with Kes, he wondered if she ran the deep DNA sequencing scan and what the results demonstrated. Other issues had overtaken them at the time. “It’s only a matter of time until the rest of the peripheral system begins to disintegrate. Captain, I see no value in keeping Lt. Paris’ body functioning.”

“You have your orders, Doctor. Janeway out,” the Captain stabbed her com badge to terminate the call. Glancing down at B’Elanna, the young engineer’s disappointment mirrored her own. “It looks like we’ll have to find another way to bring Tom back.”

Nodding, B’Elanna once again started wading through the data. “Harry’s on the bridge,” she reported, “analysing the operation logs. If he finds anything, he’ll call.”

“So, let’s consider this from a different perspective,” Janeway commented.

“Captain,” B’Elanna drew attention to the screens and screens of schematics flashing on her stations monitor. “This data describes literally every cubic centimetre in this sector. It's over five billion gigaquads of information. The shuttle stopped recording because the memory was full.”

“It would appear that the theory of infinite velocity is correct,” the scientist in Kathryn Janeway stated. Pacing, she considered the ramification of this discovery, especially in terms of her chief pilot’s mind. “It may be possible to occupy every point in the universe simultaneously. That’s what Tom was trying to tell me, before you entered sickbay. I remember his words so clearly.”

_I was, I was staring at the velocity indicator. It said warp ten. And then, as I watched it, I suddenly realised that I was watching myself as well. I could see the outside of the shuttle, I could see Voyager, I could see inside Voyager. I could see inside this room. For a moment, I was everywhere. I mean, everywhere, Captain. With the Kazon, back home, with the Klingons, other galaxies. It was all there. I don't know how else to explain it. It was like. Well, no, it wasn't like anything._

As B’Elanna listened to the captain recall Tom’s words, an echo of that connection between them repeated the dialogue. It was as if, by verbalising Paris’s thoughts, he was with her, in her mind, offering hope that he wasn’t completely lost. The connection wasn’t as complete, Torres could still hear him like an echo. Eyes unfocused as she considered this revelation, B’Elanna knew they’d missed something.

“Then it's just a matter of navigation,” B’Elanna sighed. “If we could figure out how to come out of transwarp at a specific point, this could get us home.”

“It could do more than that,” Janeway stated, finally understanding the significance of Tom’s discovery. “It could change the very nature of our existence. Think of it. There would be nothing beyond our reach.”

“Captain,” B’Elanna asked, hesitantly, “how do you think this will change our existence on an individual level? With this information at our disposal, how is a single mind to cope with all this data, even for a millisecond at trans warp velocities. I could understand a collective, like the Borg incorporating this technology.” Shuddering at the thought, Lt. Torres had to take her theory to its logical conclusion. “One human mind, coping with this much knowledge, it’s no wonder Tom’s mind overloaded. But if there’s nothing beyond our reach.”

_Keep going._

_Tom._

_Keep going._

_Am I on the right tract?_

_Keep going._

“B’Elanna,” a concerned Captain Janeway requested. “I thought I’d lost you for a moment there.”

“If nothing was beyond our reach,” she looked into the startled blue eyes of a fellow scientist, “might Tom’s very existence have reached a new plane. I’ve read stories about Q and the continuum. Wouldn’t that place humanoids on a similar evolutionary pathway?”

“I want you to continue with your investigations, Lt. Torres. See if you can find any evidence of your theory,” Janeway ordered. “In the mean time, this telemetry is giving us an invaluable record of this sector. We can use it to make a star chart. Transfer the shuttle logs to Stellar Cartography for analysis.”

“Aye, Captain,” B’Elanna responded, allowing her fingers to dance over the keyboard. She was filled with a sudden hope, hope that Tom might come back to her.

“And B’Elanna,” Kathryn offered in a soft, misty voice, “don’t give up. I know Mr. Paris is out there somewhere. We just have to find him and bring him home.”

“I know he is, Captain,” smiling, B’Elanna let the tears fall. They were cathartic. “I can hear Tom encouraging me.”

“You still feel the bond,” astounded, Kathryn watched the expressions crossing the Lieutenant’s face.

“It’s not the same, but yes,” B’Elanna’s amazement gave her hope. “Just now, when we were discussing human evolution, he told me to keep going.”


	5. Chapter 5

"Torres to Captain Janeway," B'Elanna called over the com, not noticing the early hour. A burst of energy, and the echo of Tom's gentle encouragement sustained her efforts overnight. Finally, she'd come up with something resembling a working theory. Now she had to prove it. The only way to do that involved modifying a medical tricorder and scanning Lt. Paris's body before the synaptic neurones degenerated completely.

"Janeway here," the tired voice responded.

In truth, the Captain hadn't slept very well. This situation kept revolving around in her mind as she wondered how B’Elanna was doing with her research. Added to that, Ensign Kim hadn’t left the bridge until the Gamma shift called the Captain to have him relieved of duty. Harry had been almost asleep at his station, such was his determination to find a cure for his friend.

"Meet me in sickbay," B'Elanna sounded fatigued and elated at the same time, "I might have something."

"On my way," Janeway returned, closing her eyes and hoping the young woman had achieved the impossible and was able to bring their pilot back.

Lt. Torres made the call to the Captain en route to sickbay. Entering, she hoped the doctor was inactive, giving her time to make the modifications and scan Tom. Unfortunately, the EMH program continued to run. Seated in his office, he fill out document after document required by Federation Law when a member of the crew passed away. Looking up at the sound of the door opening, a frown covered the hologram’s features.

"You should be sleeping," he scolded the impatient engineer before him. Taking up his medical tricorder, the EMH ran a quick scan of the woman before him. "It's well after four in the morning and your adrenalin levels are elevated, Lieutenant. You've been working through the night, **_again_**. I’ve warned you about all work and no play.”

“I’m fine,” B’Elanna waved away the concern.

“I beg to differ,” scolded the doctor, still waving the tricorder over her body. “It comes as no surprise you have the second most presentations to Sickbay. I see both your stomachs are empty. When was the last time you ate, Lt. Torres."

"I don't have time to sleep or eat at the moment," B'Elanna declared, standing with her hands on her hips. Torres tone became harsher with each word as her temper frayed a little more. "I need your tricorder."

Snatching it out of the doctor's grasp, the engineer had the back off and the parts scattered on the surgical bio bed's control centre before the EMH could react. Concentrating on her appointed task meant B’Elanna didn’t have to look at Tom’s inert figure laying deathly pale on the bio bed. Captain Janeway chose that moment to enter the room. Kathryn’s eyes avoided the surgical bay and the young man taking up the space. Instead, she concentrated on the sight of the doctor and B’Elanna standing at the controls centre. A slight smile gracing the Captian’s lips at B'Elanna's look of determination and the sour expression on their medical hologram.

"What is all this about," the Doctor demanded. His gaze following Lt. Torres rapidly moving fingers. She appeared to be inserting a tiny isoliner chip into his devices sensor matrix. "What are you doing with that? Don't you know it's a very precise piece of medical equipment? Without my medical tricorder in working order, how can I adequately do my job?"

"Scan Tom again," B'Elanna ordered as she handed back the now working tricorder. "I've added a variance capacitor which will detect even the smallest amount of neruosynaptic discharge. Look for a change in energy signature that isn't in the electromagnetic spectrum. This will be different from anything you've ever encountered before in a human, or any other being you’ve encountered. The reading should be unique to Tom's enhanced physiology."

"Energy," Janeway asked, not understanding.

"I don't think Tom's bioneural energy dissipated," B'Elanna explained. Turning to face the Captain meant Torres didn’t have to look at her friend’s visage. "I think it's changing, transforming, maybe into a form we haven't considered or looked for. This metamorphosis isn't compatible with his current physical brain chemistry, that's why the serotonin levels are high. His mind is trying to adapt and failing."

"That might explain the result of the deep DNA scan Kes ran," The EMH concluded. "It demonstrated deviations but we couldn't isolate the nature of the changes. The scan was imprecise and the results confusing. There was nothing like it in the data base so I decided to take a brain biopsy."

"What did you find," the Captain demanded to know.

"Lt. Paris’s cerebrum and cerebellum are completely normal, however his hypothalamus, or more precisely, the synaptic ends of the neurones are going through some sort of mutation. In short, the DNA is rewriting itself, or more precisely, unused codons in the synapsids are becoming active," the doctor sighed, taking up the neuro probe attached to the improved tricorder and waving it over Lt. Paris's inert form. "I'm still waiting for several investigations to be complete before I know what these changes will mean in terms of continuing brain function."

"Does this have anything to do with the enzymatic imbalance you found?" the Captain asked.

"In the cerebellum," confirmed the EMH, "I don't know."

"No," B'Elanna stated forcefully, watching the results from the medical tricorder over the doctor's shoulder. "This is a consequence of the transwarp flight. It wouldn't have mattered who achieved warp 10, this would have occurred. I think it's a side effect of shear amount of raw data the mind has to cope with. The human brain wasn’t designed to take in that much information instantaneously. Look there," she pointed out a spike in the reading. "I think this is the energy causing the mutations."

"This is coming from the subatomic level," the EMH looked aghast.

"Can you stop it?" Janeway looked between the doctor and engineer. “Can you halt these mutations?”

"The mutations are unlike anything in Starfleet medical records," responded the doctor, clearly lost in thought. "There are neuroelectrical transmutations at work. His synaptic patterns are changing almost every second."

"Are you saying, doctor," Janeway had to ensure she understood, "that Lt. Paris is alive."

"Not in any sense we understand," the EMH agreed, "but yes, on some level his consciousness is evolving from human to something else. I would have to say a Higher State of Consciousness, or perhaps evolved beyond the physical would be a better description. I don't know how long we can keep the Tom Paris we know functioning, unless I find a way to stop this."

Shaking her head, B'Elanna walked over to the prostrate pilot and placed a hand on Tom’s shoulder. She couldn't feel anything, yet that sense of him surrounding her continued. With each passing moment it was dissipating, becoming more ephemeral and less coherent.

"Tom is still here," B’Elanna stated venimently, more to convince herself than those around her. "He knows who he is, but he's losing himself as his mind expands and dissolves as the same time. Once his body can't sustain itself, there won't be a place for him to focus on or return to. We have to stop the mutations, reverse them somehow."

"How do we do that?" questioned the Captain with a concerned expression.

"We destroy the new DNA," the doctor responded instantly. It wasn’t much of a leap. "At the moment the changes are isolated to a particular aspect of Lt. Paris's central nervous system. It we can get his cells to use the original coding as a blueprint, they might just stop secreting serotonin which will return the synaptic neurophysiology back to normal. But the only way to destroy the mutant DNA is with highly focused antiproton radiation."

"Antiprotons?" B'Elanna questioned, her brow furrowing. "The only place on this ship which generates antiprotons is the warp core. I’ll have to take the engines off line for the procedure and it will have to occur in Engineering."

"Exactly," the EMH smiled. "I'd like to place Mr. Paris in an isotopic restraint and then infuse it with controlled antiproton bursts directly into the affected areas of his brain. A tricky venture, but I see no other alternative."

Raising an eyebrow, Janeway didn’t like the sound of the procedure. “What are his chances of making any sort of meaningful recovery?” She asked.

"Remember when the Vidiian’s removed Neelix’s lungs," B’Elanna responded, considering the complications. “The holographic organs couldn’t be moved more than a few micrometers.”

The Captain nodded and shivered at the same time.

“We’re going to have to be even more precise,” the EMH took up the explanation. “The beam of antiproton radiation can only interact with the neurosynaptic ends secreting serotonin. I’ll have to ensure Mr. Paris won’t move during the procedure. The effects of a single antiproton interacting with normal matter would cause a catastrophic chain reaction.”

_It’s too dangerous._

_I’m not giving up until your back with us._

_If this doesn’t work, Voyager will be destroyed._

_Then we’ll have to make it work._

_You don't have time._

_Trust me, I'll make the time._

_Even you can't do the impossible, B'Elanna._

_I've kept Voyager running without docking at a Starbase. I can do this. I need you to hang on._

_I'll try, but it’s getting harder to concentrate._

"Lieutenant?" Janeway offered softly. Witnessing a similar episode in engineering earlier in the evening, Kathryn realised Tom was communicating with B'Elanna.

"We don’t have much time," B'Elanna offered. "I'll let you know when I have the stream ready. With your permission, Captain, I'd like to call in the Alpha shift early and get Harry to help me."

"Ensign Kim is in his quarters. I understand he left the bridge a few hours ago. Under the circumstances," Janeway managed to contain her smile and burgeoning hope, "I'm sure no one will mind putting in the extra hours."

_I wouldn't count on that._

"Captain," B'Elanna sighed, not understanding what made her utter her next words, “I don’t think Tom would agree with you.”

“Is Mr. Paris still experiencing difficulties?" Demanded the Captain in a hard voice.

_A man convinced against his will._

_Just answer the question._

_Nothing I can't handle._

“I don’t know the details,” B’Elanna stumbled over the words. “When he’s not with Harry or working on our project, I’ve never seen Tom speaking with anyone else in more than a superficial way.”

The Captain glared at B’Elanna while her mind worked overtime. She might not take in every action and reaction of her crew, but Chakotay had a very good handle on the moral and conduct. He didn’t have the best memories of Lt. Paris, but even her first officer understood Tom had come a long way from he arrogant, contemptuous young man who initially came aboard.

"Doctor?" Kes's soft voice broke into the silence surrounding the three people in sickbay. She could feel the irritation radiating off the Captain. Looking at Lt. Paris, the Ocampan didn't notice any difference in his appearance since leaving several hours earlier. "I thought, but I must have been mistaken. Tom looks like he's sleeping."

"Looks," the EMH responded, "can be deceiving. We've come up with a theory."

"I'm going back to Engineering," B'Elanna stated before the overly verbose hologram got started on his explanation with Kes. "The moment I have that antiproton stream ready, you'll need to transport the isotopic restraint directly to the space beside the warp core."

"I'll be in my ready room," the Captain offered, needing time to think about these new revelations. "Let me know when your about to start the procedure. I want to be in Engineering while it’s taking place. I'll walk you to the turbolift, Lt. Torres."

Exiting the doors of sickbay, Lt. Torres tried to explain Tom's answer to the Captain without compromising his confidence. B’Elanna hadn't realised the insidious discrimination continued beyond their first few months on board Voyager. The episode in the Vidiian mine first opened her eyes to the real character lurking inside the cocky pilot. Thanks to Harry and their working together on the trans warp project, she’d learnt Thomas Paris wasn’t close to the arrogant pig she believed him to be. Finally, she’d seen the subtle physical and mental antagonism aimed at him by both Starfleet and Maquis alike though Tom’s eyes with their unique bond.

Kathryn Janeway kept her expression neutral as she questioned the Engineer. Not liking the underhand antipathy occurring on her ship, even though Lt. Thomas Paris had proved himself time and again, this information played into her hands. The Captain knew, if they got Tom back, she’d be able to use his sordid past, this episode, and the continuing animosity to generate the situation which will allow them to investigate if Seska has a sympathiser on board Voyager.

The hours passed all to quickly in Engineering as every available body was put to work. Those same minutes ticked by at glacial speed in the Captain’s ready room. Finally, at three minutes to six, the Doctor contacted Engineering and requested in a terse tone, "What's your status, Lieutenant?"

“Transport the isotopic restrain on my mark,” B’Elanna ordered. Watching Vorik, Carey and Boylan, her assistants nodded their readiness. “Now.”

The chunky box shimmered into existence beside her console. Working from one of the stations encircling the now dormant warp core, B'Elanna faced the chamber containing Tom's body. He needed to remain completely still throughout the procedure so they could focus the beam on his hypothalamus. Lt. Paris's presence was like a tickle in the back of her mind. They no longer communicated with words. The connection was fading, fast.

"The interface is charged and ready," she reported.

"Let's start with a two second burst," the EMH ordered.

It didn't work. B'Elanna felt Tom starting to slip away. The Doctor ordered a longer, more intense therapy. They moved from the hypothalamus, outward to the rest of the cerebellum, and then the cerebrum, adjusting the dose as the cortical stimulator detected normal human brain activity. In the two hours between the discovery of the neuroenergy changes caused the rest of the Tom’s central neurological system to become effected.

"B'Elanna," Kathryn Janeway stood at the back of the crowd, watching and waiting. Beside her Chokatay and Tuvok awaited the results of this procedure.

Shaking her head, the Captain understood. Lt. Torres couldn't sense Lt. Paris. Just as the EMH declared the treatment a success and beamed the containment unit back to the surgical bio bed, the chief engineer collapsed. Hitting her head on the corner of the console, the engineers standing close to their chief heard the sickening crack.

"Janeway to transporter room one," the Captain's voice sounded strained. She watched on in horror as Lt. Carey attended to the furiously bleeding cut on B’Elanna’s forehead. "Lock on to Lt. Torres com badge and beam her directly to sickbay."

The command team rushed from Engineering. By the time they reached deck five, the doctor had Kes running several scans on B'Elanna while he checked Lt. Paris's encephalogram. They entered the room as the EMH declared Tom's brain activity restored to its previous levels.

"Lt. Paris will have to stay in Sickbay for a day or two," the doctor answered the Captain's unasked question. "I believe his memory engrams have been retained up to the point he was beamed back to Voyager after his test flight. The rest will have to wait until he regains enough use of his neural network. However, I expect him to make a full recovery."

Allowing an eyebrow to arch, Janeway requested, "B'Elanna?"

"I'm fine," the half Klingon groaned, trying to sit up.

“You are not fine, Lieutenant,” the Doctor stated with a sigh. “You have a concussion.”

"What's the last thing you remember?" Kes asked in a soft tone, trying to dispel the rising tension in the room.

"I rushed in here to see Tom. Harry said he'd been transported directly to sick bay and his life signs were weak," B'Elanna responded. Glancing around she noticed Paris in the surgical bay, laying perfectly still and very pale. “What happened to him? Was it something to do with the test flight?”

"Lt. Paris is unconscious but resting comfortably. I believe he will join the land of the living in an hour or two," the doctor soothed in his abrasive voice. "I suggest we reconvene in an hour. I'll have more answers for you then." When B'Elanna rose to leave, the EMH demanded, "just were do you think you're going, Lieutenant?"

"To Engineering," she stated. “I have to down load the logs from _Cochrane_ and start analysing the data.”

"I don't think so, you seem to have lost almost twenty-four hours," the doctor explained, much to the Chief Engineer's displeasure. “It must have come from the blow to your cranium.”

“I didn’t hit my head,” B’Elanna crossed her arms over her chest, before she realised her temple hurt.

"I'll explain," Kes offered, sending a side long glance to the EMH. Smiling at B’Elanna, she began in a soft tone, sending calming empathy at the irate half Klingon.


	6. Chapter 6

“I've re-examined the data on Mister Paris’ transformation, and I think I understand what happened to him,” the EMH declared proudly to the Captain and first officer. They’d descended on sickbay exactly one hour after the procedure ended, demanding an explanation. “The mutations we observed are natural.”

“Natural?” Chakotay looked at the doctor as though he was mad. Their Con Officer spent nearly eight hours as a corps, his body functions sustained by artificial means. “How can dying be natural?”

“Lt. Torres theory was almost correct, not that she remembers it,” the doctor smirked. Glancing at the engineer, she chafed. Lt. Torres had been threatening bodily harm to the holograms matrix if he didn’t let her out of sickbay. They come to an agreement. She’d stay until he given the senior officers his report. Before the furious woman could interrupt, the EMH continued his lecture. “The changes in Mr. Paris’ DNA are consistent with the evolutionary development of the human genotype observed over the past four million years.”

“Are you saying,” Tuvok didn’t look convinced, “Lt. Paris evolved?”

“His mind evolved,” the doctor corrected, “without his body experiencing the same level of progression. The only difference between natural advancement of a species and what happened to Mr. Paris is that his changes took place over a period of a few hours. Somehow, travelling at infinite velocity accelerated the natural human evolutionary process by millions of years.”

Rather unimpressed, B’Elanna asked, “then what occurred to me? Why can’t I remember anything?”

“That Lieutenant,” the EMH’s smirk widened, “defies logic. I’m afraid we may never know. I suspect the time you spent sitting by Mr. Paris’s bedside with his high serotonin level affected you in some way. It’s possible your Klingon heritage made you more susceptible to the level of pheromones excreted by my patient while undergoing this process. It might account for your docility while in Mr. Paris’ company.”

“Docility,” B’Elanna demanded in a tone that would cause most to scatter.

“Yes, Lieutenant,” the EMH grinned gleefully. “Docility. You sat with Mr. Paris for over five hours without a word between you. Not once did you complain about getting back to Engineering or threaten to decompose my matrix.”

“Great,” B’Elanna growled. Embarrassed, she bolted out of sickbay before Tom woke up or the senior officers could stop her. “If Paris ever gets wind of this, I’ll never live it down.”

“I think, Doctor,” Captain Janeway eyed every member of staff currently in the room, “this incident should remain strictly confidential. Tom and B’Elanna have gone thought enough over the last day.”

_I only hope it doesn’t affect their relationship, both personal and professional. Who am I kidding, what Tuvok and I are about to ask Tom Paris to do will destroy all the respect he’s achieved over the last year. I can’t believe Tom’s come to far, only to have his past rear it’s ugly head once again so he can play the part we need him to play._

**One month later**.

“You know, I've been surprised at how well you've been able to fit in here,” Tom stated. B’Elanna gave him one of those looks of understanding, like she could see into his soul. Paris didn’t need that right now, not with the assignment the Captain had given him a few weeks back. “I’m a little envious too.”

“Tom, what's been going on with you lately?” B’Elanna enquired. She’d heard rumours, but it was more than that. Since the transwarp thing, there’s been this connection between them. Something was just off with him, like he was deliberately pushing everyone away, including herself and Harry.

“Going on?” There it was gain, that almost false expression, as if Tom were trying to make her underestimate him. She knew he was a better man than this. “How?”

Frustrated that she couldn’t put her finger on the issue, Lt. Torres stated softly, “people are starting to talk.”

“Are they?” he demanded hotly, but B’Elanna knew there was no real fire in his words. Tom Paris was playing a game with her, only she couldn’t figure out why, or what made her so sure. “People like who? Chakotay?”

_Maybe if I bring this down to a personal level, Tom will let me in. After that fiasco with the trans warp test flight, I can’t help but feel this is all an act. What I can’t understand is why? Why would Tom assassinate his character like this? I know he’s a better man since Captain Janeway’s given him the opportunity to redeem himself._

“No,” B’Elanna spoke softly, filling her tone with affection for a good friend. “I mean people like me.”

_Don’t do this. Don’t question me. Just trust in me._

Shaking her head, the words sounded like Tom. _I must be imaging it._

“Like today. Look at yourself, Tom. Usually you don’t have a hair out of place. And coming to a briefing late,” her eyes raked over his unkempt appearance. “Is it true, you had a fight with Lt. Rollins?”

Their conversation didn’t last much longer, but Tom’s final words struck fear into B’Elanna’s heart. “I'm the one who's been wrong, wrong about a lot of things.”

No matter how she tried, the way Tom said those words and his meaning just didn’t add up. Dreadnought was out there and active. Right now, they had bigger things to worry about.

_I have bigger things to worry about, but I’ll get to the bottom of this._

_I really wish you wouldn’t._

Neither Tom nor B’Elanna would ever admit, to themselves, let alone anyone else, that they might have head the other’s thoughts.


End file.
